Aeroplanes Aren't My Area
by hugsfromhiddles
Summary: Sherlock needs help solving a case involving airplanes, so he visits his cousin. Cabin Pressure crossover. Johnlock!


**This was a little piece written for a friend! It's completely unbeta'd but should be good to go! Thanks for reading! **

* * *

"Sherlock, why on Earth are we in a cab to Wokingham at 6 am?" John sighed irritably, leaning against the car window.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to ask," Sherlock shrugged. "If you must know, we're going to visit my cousin." He sighed and returned his attention to the passing scenery. John gave a puzzled look.

"You have a cousin in Wokingham? How come I've never heard about him?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock chuckled.

"He's not exactly a successful member of the Holmes family."

"What, you mean he's not the world's only consulting detective, or the British Government?" John laughed, shaking his head.

"He's an airline captain, but don't let the title fool you. He's basically a flying cabbie." The detective smiled and lowered his voice. "Though no offense to this bloke," he chuckled, nodding towards the man driving their cab.

"If that's unsuccessful, I'd hate to think of how your family would see me." Sherlock rolled his eyes and laughed.

"You're a doctor, John. That's a much more esteemed job than what my cousin does. Trust me." The two of them were silent for a minute, then John spoke up.

"So why are we going to see your cousin now of all times? Suddenly feeling nostalgic?" Sherlock chuckled.

"Not quite. Lestrade's got me on a case involving and aeroplane, and I thought he might be able to help. Believe it or not, I'm not particularly familiar with the finer intricacies of aviation. Though there are more qualified consultants, I don't want to offend the poor guy. His self-confidence is low enough as it is." John laughed.

"So, he's nothing like you then." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Precisely the opposite, I think you'll find," he said, shaking his head.

"So what about this case then?" John suddenly asked. They had nearly a half hour longer until they reached Wokingham, and they might as well use it working, he thought. Sherlock was more than happy to oblige.

"About a week ago, a strange accident occurred on a London aircraft. A passenger, a perfectly healthy man in his thirties, fell asleep and, when the attendant tried to wake him upon landing, he was dead. But after an autopsy, it became clear that this was no accident. Traces of a sleeping medication as well as a type of poisonous chemical were found in his system."

"He was poisoned then?"

"So it seems."

* * *

Sherlock stepped out of the cab and held the door while John followed suit. The taller man stretched, probably uncomfortable after being stuck in a cab for over an hour, and started toward the front door of his aunt's house.

"Sherlock! It's been ages! Come in, Martin's just arrived. He's on holiday all week and he can't wait to see you!" An older woman greeted Sherlock and John, and ushered them inside. Sherlock put on his best attempt at a friendly smile.

"Aunt Crieff, so nice to see you. This is my friend, John, he's helping with the case." The woman said a cheerful hello to John and went to fetch her son. Not a minute later, a small, red-haired man with green eyes and freckles entered the room. John assumed this was Martin, and was amazed by how much he looked like Sherlock. In a very awkward and not nearly as elegant way.

"Hello Sherlock," the man said in a voice that even sounded like his cousin's, if a bit higher. He took Sherlock's hand in a nervous handshake. Sherlock greeted him in a similar but slightly more distant manner. Martin then turned and addressed John, sounding cheerful but anxious. "You must be Doctor Watson!" He shook John's hand. "Captain Martin Crieff. I've heard so much about you! I hear you've done wonders for my cousin since you moved in!" Sherlock groaned and turned a bit red. Did he really talk about John that much?

Martin showed his guests into the kitchen, where they sat at the table while he prepared drinks.

"He seems nice," John said in a low voice. Sherlock shrugged.

"He's a bit of a nervous wreck, don't you think?" Sherlock's slightly harsh words were paired with an even tone and straight face.

"He looks a lot like you. A bit more...personable, I should think." John ignored Sherlock's comment, turning to look over at his cousin instead.

"That's ridiculous! We're nothing alike!" Sherlock sneered, just as Martin spilled most of a cup of tea down the front of his shirt. Sherlock seemed unamused, raising an eyebrow. John, however, jumped to his feet.

"Are you alright? Do you need some help?" Martin shook his head.

"No, it's fine. I'll just go change." He then ran up the stairs without another word.

"Before you ask, yes, he is always like that." Sherlock sighed as John returned to his seat. "Hardly pilot material, I'd say. It's a wonder he's still single." John shrugged.

"You're not really one to talk. And I don't know, I guess some people like a little awkwardness in a person." He turned red, hoping that Sherlock wouldn't notice, but knowing such a thing wasn't entirely possible. This was Sherlock after all.

"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock interrogated. "You can't mean you... _like_my cousin! That's absurd! Just look at him!" John shrugged.

"I don't know, he seems like a nice guy. A little odd, but nice." Sherlock shot a look of disbelief in John's direction.

"You do! John, I—wait, I thought you said you liked women." John rolled his eyes.

"I do. But maybe I've surrounded myself with too many guys recently. Plus, I never said I liked him!"

"John, do you doubt my abilities to read you? I am offended." Just then, Martin came clambering down the stairs, pulling a grey sweatshirt over his head. Sherlock was genuinely surprised that his cousin could manage both tasks at once.

"Better?" John asked happily, grateful for the distraction as Martin joined them. Sherlock stayed silent but glared behind the others' backs. Martin smiled nervously.

"Yes, thank you. Sorry about that by the way. I'm a bit clumsy." He set himself back to work pouring tea very carefully.

"Don't worry about it," John laughed. "So you're an airline captain. A bit young for that, aren't you?" Martin raised and eyebrow and perked up a bit. Sherlock groaned; he knew what was coming.

"Yes, I suppose I am," the red-haired man said proudly. "There aren't many 36 year old captains I will admit."

"I don't doubt it," John nodded. "Quite impressive, really. I'm just a doctor, which isn't nearly as big a feat at my age." Martin shook his head.

"No, it's quite brilliant really. It takes a lot of dedication." John shrugged.

"I guess so," he flushed slightly. Behind him, Sherlock was feeling slightly nauseated and, for a reason he couldn't quite place, a bit angry.

"Should we talk about the case then?" the detective spoke up, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere. Martin suddenly remembered what he was doing and carried the cups to the table, surprisingly not spilling any of their contents.

"So what's it about anyway?" he addressed his cousin, who was still sulking. Sherlock filled him in and sat back, wishing he had never come to Wokingham in the first place. Martin took in all of the information while John simply watched him process it, much to Sherlock's displeasure.

"Well, sounds like an interesting situation," Martin said after Sherlock had finished. The tall man rolled his eyes.

"Not really. I only took the case because I was bored and Lestrade is in completely over his head, as usual. Now I came here to get a pilot's perspective, so let's hear it," he snapped. Martin thought for a moment before responding, ignoring Sherlock's rudeness.

"Well, any and all passengers are checked thoroughly for any sort of drugs before boarding, so your suspect is most likely someone who works for the airline and is well trusted. Pilots wouldn't really have the opportunity to do something like this, with pre-takeoff checks and the like. It sounds like the drug was in the food or drink, which leaves you with cooks and flight attendants. And seeing as as the cooks might make several of the same meal with no choice of who it goes to, they couldn't be sure that the poison reached its target. All signs point to a flight attendant, and on this particularly small aircraft, there would only be one of them. I'd say that's your man. Or woman." John raised an eyebrow. This man was definitely related to Sherlock after all.

"Brilliant!" he couldn't help but exclaim. Sherlock was glad John couldn't see him, as his jealousy was plain on his face. John usually only complimented _him_like that! Martin turned even more red and smiled, looking down at his tea.

"Thank you," he stammered. "I'm glad someone recognizes my intellect, even if it's not as great as Sherlock's..." John laughed, putting a reassuring hand on Martin's shoulder.

"Well trust me, you're a lot more sociable, and a lot less sociopathic than your cousin," he chuckled, completely ignoring the fact that Sherlock was present. Martin grinnned and looked up at John.

"That's not saying much," he joked, playfully hitting Sherlock on the shoulder. The dark haired man pretended to disregard him but ended up looking like he had just eaten something repulsive.

"So, tell me about your job," John said, knowing Martin would be more than happy to talk about flying.

"It's absolutely amazing," Martin started, then diving into a story about the time he had landed his plane on one engine, with no help from First Officer Richardson of course. John hung on his every word, genuinely interested in what the man had to say. Occasionally he would nod, or offer a wide-eyed 'fantastic' or another comment of the same nature.

Suddenly, Sherlock stood and left the kitchen, muttering to himself and looking rather upset. Martin stopped his tale midsentence with a confused expression.

"He does this all the time," John shrugged, "but I should go see what's wrong this time." Martin nodded, and John followed his flatmate out the front door, finding him sitting on the curb and in the process of lighting a cigarette. John sat next to Sherlock, and when the taller man didn't protest, he dared to speak.

"I thought you quit," he said, gesturing to the cigarette and trying to keep the conversation light. He knew how Sherlock could get when he was in one of his moods. The detective didn't answer but inhaled a breath of smoky air and sighed.

After several minutes of silence, John took the cigarette from his friend's hand and looked him in the eyes, ignoring his objections.

"Listen, I know something's bothering you. Don't try and deny it. Now talk." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Give it back," he ordered, disregarding John's command. The soldier shook his head.

"After you tell me what's wrong." Sherlock groaned, much like a child who had been told he couldn't have a cookie before dinner. John gave a stern look in reply and he finally gave in.

"I don't like the way you talk to my cousin," he stated with his expression straight. John looked confused.

"Martin? I thought I was nice enough to him."

"That's just the thing!" Sherlock exclaimed. "You're very friendly with him, and it's driving me insane!" He threw up his hands in desperation. John raised an eyebrow and barely held back a grin as it dawned on him what was really going on, though he had possessed a fairly good idea of what it was before.

"You're jealous!" John laughed.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock pouted, looking hurt. John shook his head and smiled.

"You, jealous? I never thought I'd see the day! Why didn't you say something?" Sherlock shrugged.

"I thought you'd laugh. I guess I was right. Plus, you seem perfectly happy flirting with my relatives." It was John's turn to roll his eyes.

"I was only doing that to see how you'd react! Martin is nice and all, but he isn't interested and neither am I. But watching you squirm is definitely worth faking it."

"You mean...you were _trying_to make me jealous?"

"So it seems," John grinned. "And it confirmed my hypothesis." Sherlock gave a questioning look.

"What hypothesis would that be?" he asked. John laughed.

"That you're in love with me." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Astute observation, Doctor," he smiled. "And the fact that you conducted such an experiment proves that the feeling is mutual, I presume." John laughed and nodded.

"You are a brilliant detective," he chuckled, handing the glowing cigarette back to Sherlock.

"I don't think I'll be needing this anymore," he said, taking the cigarette from John and smashing it into the pavement under his shoe. Suddenly John laughed and shook his head. At a confused looks from Sherlock, he responded.

"You know, this is gonna sound really stupid, but you're kind of adorable when you get jealous." Sherlock rolled his eyes and grinned.

"This coming from the man who insists on wearing fuzzy jumpers year round." He chuckled and put a long arm around John's waist, pulling him closer. The shorter man rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder and they were both quiet for several minutes.

"You know, we probably shouldn't leave Martin alone for much longer with that anxiety," John sighed, breaking the silence. He hated the idea of leaving his current location, but Martin probably was wondering where the two of them had gone by now. Sherlock yawned contentedly and laughed softly, apparently feeling the same as John was.

"Let him wait."


End file.
